Artificial Intelligence | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: Artificial Intelligence | Previous Challenge Entry
By Samuel Kane
02/24/21
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Context, axiomatic, toxic. Who even uses X? Experiment, ex-girlfriend, X-ray. I’m a loser, lonesome in the corner by Mr Z, excluded from the group. I’m most commonly used to symbolise “kisses”, not because of anything particularly romantic in my shape but because I’m too rare, peculiar even, to be confused with anything else. I suppose I sometimes bear the variability of algebraic manipulation, but let’s face it, a mathematician’s not going to be reading something like this. Then again, who in their right mind would? Why would anyone be exclusively fixated on X?

Time passes and I grow weary. The shadow falls upon me, and I peer up in anticipation but alas, my time has not come. The creator’s hand falls upon Miss S once again, as if she doesn’t get enough attention already. I gaze across the vast crowd of my comrades, each unique, most more popular than me. A great buzz shakes the table upon which our colony rests. Professor P jumps up in surprise. He was the last to be chosen. What had he done? The creator stands and then a great white sheet descends from heaven. Setting it aside, he returns to his task. N is nominated next and a new page appears upon the screen. Silence. I shift nervously on the spot. Why is everyone staring at me? I swivel slowly and that’s when I see him, confined to the corner.

Reality is a truly bizarre thing: as soon as you think you know everything, something new crops up. We all know that, as individuals, we’re used in certain combinations to paint the whole picture. That appeared to be our purpose. We never imagined the possibilities that he would create. He’s quickly become the centre of attention, able to interact with each of us, in one way or another. It’s like he changes our very nature. A has become Mr Inclusive, selecting everyone to ensure that we’re all involved. C is the great plagiarist. Miss S has become a regular lifesaver. After a life of being ignored, Mr Z has become resentful; he now aims to undo whatever the rest of us achieve. How the world has changed.

Lights glimmer above me as the Creator works tirelessly into the night. I lie there in semi-conscious idleness, still untouched. A shadow passes over me, probably for Miss S. Then I feel a great weight pressing down upon me. The text upon the screen vanishes, only to appear again further down. Is that the full extent of my purpose? It seems as though I am not that dissimilar to the rest. I’m like C but more destructive; I’m like Mr Z but less efficient. Everything I do can be done by another and my very purpose is reliant on V. Once again, I am left isolated in the corner, overlooked while he takes all the glory. Yet, the Creator still chose me. Why? Everything I touch ends up on the cutting room floor. What purpose could be found in that? I appear to have a very specific task. Yes, others can do it but not as quickly. E may be the busiest but can she show affection through those precious kisses at the foot of the letter? F may be the most perceptive but he can’t teleport text like me. As for him, that oddly named Ctrl, where is his purpose without the rest of us? Exuberant, extravagant, exciting. I may not be that frequently used but perhaps I’m far more useful than I once realised. Perhaps, the creator has a different plan for me.

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